


Of Unwanted Alliances

by RoamingHalla



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek Online
Genre: Decisions, Gen, Quests, Reflection, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 05:09:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17277659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoamingHalla/pseuds/RoamingHalla
Summary: Based upon Vriha's decision in one of the many Star Trek Online Quests. They do not want to make the decision and it is not one they make happily.





	Of Unwanted Alliances

 

A few days had passed since the Romulan, who was now nothing more than mere ashes had sacrificed themself; it was that or the bomb would explode and with the death toll that explosion would have caused, it would have erased away any fraction of trust they had here as well. He had been able to lay down a forcefield around the explosive device, intended to kill one of the more respected Klingon diplomats. Yet the forcefield could not work to contain the explosion if he wasn't by the bomb, and so to save everyone in the room, especially the diplomat, he had to die in the process. Their plan was foiled, and despite the clear sadness that was expressed on a few of their crew, what had occurred was for the best.

 

Shaking their head, Vriha could not dwell on that matter, it happened and these thoughts were ill-advised to muse on, at least in the moment; especially given it was now a matter that was a few days old. But thanks to his sacrifice it did seem to ease both the Empire and the Federation to forming an alliance and recognizing the Romulan Republic as a legitimate power in the Quadrant. They were relieved to find that the herds of questions about the Republic had finished, they had also received permission to leave now that both sides felt as if all their questions about this potential Republic and the proposed alliance had been answered.

 

Tapping on the armband that allowed their communication to the warbird possible. “Five to beam up.” They ordered, and as they saw the transporter beam take affect part of them wondered if anyone would question why the order was for five when six who had been sent down.

 

Feeling the solid ground under their feet, they looked around and gathered their thoughts. Stepping off of the Transporter Pad, they noticed that they were not greeted by the familiar greeting that they had expected from the main Transporter officer. This time it was by their first officer. Raising an eyebrow, they glanced down at the much smaller Romulan, and before even asking why they had left the bridge, they could tell it was an important matter.

 

“What is it you wish to tell me?” Their question was followed by a few mumbling thoughts from their First Officer, an action they believed was to be them trying to figure out how to word whatever it was they were going to mention.

 

“It seems that whatever you did worked. We just received a transmission from the Romulan Fleet from New Romulus that both the Klingon Defence Force and the Federation will be sending someone there so that an alliance can be reached, or at least to thank us for saving their lives, it wasn't clear. I suspect we will be heading there, Captain?”

 

Nodding, they headed towards the Turbolift that sat right outside the Transporter room. The last part made it clear that it wasn't just the room full of Klingons and Federation Officers who knew about the sacrifice they had witnessed. It had already been spread a decent bit. Most likely it was making its way to Subcommander and the fleet itself. As well as spreading to the ships surrounding Khitomer and, from what they picked up, possible future representatives who would arrive to meet with the Republic.

 

“Both? And here I thought neither of them would ever come to trust our words.” As they spoke they tried to keep their voice clear from the bitterness they felt at the prospect of allying with anyone. A happy chime echoed through the room as the doors to the Turbolift opened. As they stepped in they heard the words to head to the bridge.

 

“But that is a good thing, we might have a chance now, and that is quite an appealing thought don't you think sir?” Their question was quiet, maybe concerned if they would challenge them on that idea, which indicated they hadn't succeeded in hiding their tone as well as they had wished.

 

“Yes, yes it is.” The sound of the turbolift as it moved higher and higher to the bridge was oddly soothing, and they had missed the quiet, spending even a few days in the Khitomer Conference had proved quite trying; and their head hurt from a painful headache. It was loud and full of far too many Klingons who didn't know when was a good time to refrain themselves from fighting and their beloved blood wine. They couldn't say they cared much for the uptight Federation Ambassadors who had been sent there, either, especially not that blasted Vulcan who kept denying everything they had to say.

 

But it had seemed everything they hated had proved worthwhile, as they might just have a chance to achieve what they set out in the first place by heading to the conference.

 

As the door opened, they stepped onto the bridge. Receiving a few grateful looks from their officers stationed there, probably thankful for the fact they'd finally be out of this sector and that their worries about this assignment would now cease to exist.

 

“Captain, we're receiving a hail from Subcommander Nadel, do we respond.” Looking over at who spoke, they nodded and as they began to open up the channel, they walked over to the Captain’s chair, feeling if they were to answer that hail it would only feel right to settle down there.

 

As they sat down, the viewscreen now turned on, the light emitted from the screen lit up their face, making their dark brown freckles stand out rather than blend in. Nadel was now clearly visible compared to the blurry image a few moments ago. She had rather pale green tinted skin. Her ridges were small compared to most, but paired with their narrow eyes of the women, it wasn't off putting. Her hair was cut off by the bottom of her ears, black in colour. A typical hairstyle of most Romulans, a hairstyle Vriha didn't have. Theirs was a dark ginger hair that was cut by their shoulders.

 

“It seems that this assignment was a success, I just received word from two Captains, a ship sent by the Federation and by the Klingon Empire, that they'd be docking. Both of them have also come to the same conclusion that allying with the Romulan Republic is worthwhile. They will be arriving in less than five hours, I believe.” They could hear that the professionalism that they tried to keep was also filled with gratefulness and relief, a sentiment felt across both Vriha and her crew.

 

“It seems that you're saying I will have to make that decision when I arrive?” They asked,hoping the answer would be no, as no part of themself wished to have that level of pressure placed on them.

 

“Yes, it seems that is what I'm asking. Most of New Romulus is saying your ship is our leading force and they seemed to believe that you will become one of the important voices moving forward, and with that in mind I am leaving this decision to you.” Vriha clenched their teeth as they heard that response, refraining themselves from cursing under their breath. Their narrowed expression was enhanced by the head ridges of the Romulan, making their displeasement even more intense.

 

“Then I will try to not make the mistake of choosing the wrong ally. I will have my mind made up with hopefully what I believe to be the right choice when we arrive at that fleet, which our pilot estimates will take 3 days.”

 

“It is settled then, we will have a new alliance in less than a week. And with that I now must sign off, work here never settles down even for a conversation like that.”

 

As that viewscreen turned off, and it now replaced with the view of Khitomer, Vriha felt like slamming their first against the arm of the chair. This was not an alliance they ever wanted to make, they didn't believe that Romulans needed anyone to help build up the power of Republic and yet they were now handed the pressure of making the decision despite not even agreeing with it. It was embarrassing really, the thought was enough to make Vriha’s blood boil.

 

“First, take the bridge, I will be heading to my quarters as I now have been bestowed an important decision that I must make and put much thought into.”

 

Stepping off the platform that was slightly raised, everyone around Vriha was quiet. If they were thinking about anything, they hid it well.

 

Dipping their head to the Reman who would now act as captain until they headed back to their bridge, they side stepped out of her way. Vriha wished that their trip back to Ro-(no, their Romulus was gone) New Romulus was a peaceful one, they doubted that their cloak was even working, and the damage the ship took was extensive, any attacks on the Warbird would be able to destroy the ship; a peaceful trip wouldn't require a cloak or a battle ready ship they didn't have after all.

 

Vriha knew that thought was irrelevant of course, they didn't think the Federation would ever attack a Romulan ship knowing quite well that would destroy their chance of allying with the Romulan Republic, an alliance they needed simply due to the fact Romulans were enemies many times in their history; and quite a terrifying one at that. After all, the only real alliance was one not out of trust but rather the rising fear of the Dominion War, and that they needed the Romulans to win that war, an alliance that never reached a permanent state after they had won the war. But this? This could prove vital to the Federation, as much as the thought of allying with them sickened Vriha to their core.

 

And the Klingons? Well for all their battle hungry tendencies, they would never attack someone they wished to form an alliance with. After all, it'd be dishonourable.

 

Stepping into their ready room, Vriha looked around. It was sparse, very few decorations littered the room, and it was even more hollow when contrasted against their ready room of the ship they had captained all the way through the founding years just before the Dominion War till the destruction of Romulus.

 

_2371 was when I first received that command wasn't it? And now it's 2408. I can't believe it was 37  years ago. I must have been young then? 101 wasn't it?_

 

A small smile formed as they recalled that ship, the war had been a blessing in a disguise for them it had seemed. And despite all the death, the sheer level of chaos brought by the war, they half wished that they were back there. Everything seemed so much simpler then.

 

Now instead of piloting that ship into battle to help protect the Alpha Quadrant and more importantly Romulus, they now have a decision dropped at their feet, a choice between two paths that were both unwanted and discarded futures to Vriha. Yet they couldn't say no, it was not their place nor their right to put their pride of what New Romulus, the Romulan Republic should stand for.

 

Not when most of those who make up the order never knew how much pride in being a standalone power brought, most had been born during the war, only 10 years before The Romulan Star Empire was destroyed, maybe even after. They were just afraid, and they didn't grasp what a humiliating thought allying with either thr Klingons or the Federation was. After all, they just wanted to live free from the Tal Shiar, and unlike Vriha, they didn't think that was possible without allies.

 

Vriha collapsed on the dark grey chair that sat facing the door to the ready room, a rather neatly organized desk was placed in front of them. Kneeling their elbows onto the table, then resting their hands to the sides of their forehead, Vriha had much to muse over.

 

This decision was not one to be made haphazardly, it was one that should be brought to the attention of anyone who held power or respect in the Republic or the Senate that would one day be made, yet that was not an option. Time was slipping by at a rapid pace, it would be only a few days until they arrived back at the fleet of warbirds and smaller Romulan ships that circled New Romulus. Three days to make such an important decision, three days to choose an alliance over standing alone, 84 hours (or was it less? They didn't know how long the days on the new home was).

 

The pitiful amount of time almost made them laugh, the thought of a decision like this ever being made so quickly was unheard of, especially in regards to Romulans. It seems of course their complaints were petty, after all, they could not change how long they had.

 

Vriha looked up at the door, a bitter smile spread across their dark brown skin. Paired with the slanted pointed eyebrows and the ridges, the green slitted eyes, it all made their expression indisputably unsettling.

 

“It seems I have much work to do.”

* * *

  
-42 Hours Left-

 

Sprawled across the back of the chair, their posture was pathetically tired, from their slumped back to the bags under their eyes. Paired with both the wrinkles by their eyes and the curved ones at the bottom of their nose, it was clear to see not only that Vriha was aging and almost considered old, but also a cleary drained.

 

If anyone had seen them like this when they held the title of Admiral when the Romulan Star Empire was still standing, well it would be a sign of clear weakness, one that undoubtedly would be exploited.

 

Yet now, Vriha didn't much care about any of that. They had been combing through the data of any alliances with either faction, the wars, the battles, any scrap of information they could find regarding Romulans and the two potential allies for the last day and a half. It proved a waste, barley even scratching the surface of every last bit of information on just the Dominion War, this wasn't proving helpful.

 

They couldn't look through enough statistics in the time that would show that they could trust one alliance over the other. It had to be a decision made on their own personal views.

 

That and the lack of sleep the Romulan had gotten in the last few days had only worsened their throbbing headache; of course they would deal with it silently. And now they had less than two days to make a decision that would undoubtedly set the course for the future of the Republic.

 

At the sound of the doorbell chime, Vriha lifted her  head from laying over the back of the chair. “What?” As she spoke, the door opened, revealing their first officer, who had light brown skin Reman, who's grey eyes seemed far too big for her head.

 

Stepping into the room, allowing the door behind her to close, she tilted her head and gave a puzzled look to the captain, complete with the raising of a brow.

 

“I was wondering how everything was going. You haven't left here in almost two days, simply curious.”

 

“It's going..” Vriha stopped for a second, perhaps they should be honest.

 _Don't let on how hard something is. A weak captain will undoubtedly affect your crew. Don't let yourself ever be weak, Romulan Captains aren't weak._ Echoing one of the ‘kind’ words of advice they had be given from someone who claimed superior. They knew despite how much the Reman in front of them wished for an honest answer, they'd lie.

 

“Fine.” Forcing their voice to sound clear of emotion, they had to act normal, the crew shouldn't know just how taxing this situation was for them.

 

“You don't look it.” Commenting, they mentally scolded their behaviour. Having let themselves be caught tired and anything less than perfect was shameful. Romulans were passionate people, emotions were expected from captains, but never weak ones- anger, passion, pride, happiness, those were fine, sadness, tiredness, anything remotely weak was to be hidden.

 

“Just tired. Can't seem to get any sleep, I  decided it was best if I stayed up instead.” Spitting out a lie as quickly as the question was finished, instinctually so, they watched as the suspicious filled gaze seemed to vanish, they had convinced her; or so it seemed.

 

“You may leave. I do appreciate the concern.” Smiling slightly at the First Officer, who gleefully returned the same cheery smile back at them. Vriha than watched as she left, and as she left, it was beginning to dawn on them that they had little time left for any decision

* * *

 

-4 Hours Left-

 

Hitting the wall beside where they had paced, frustration rang through the room. It had been hard enough to pierce a hole into the wall, a noticeable one at that. Yet Vriha didn't feel any pain despite the damage they had done, and their knuckles were barely even covered in the green blood one would expect to be seen after such a punch. Of course Vriha wasn't shocked, Romulans, and Vulcans for that matter were much stronger than most species, which had its advantages.

 

Leaning against the damaged wall, laying their head on the surface, their muscles tensed. They had come to a decision, and yet they didn't feel happy or relieved. Instead a passionate anger was present, at the decision given to them and their choice. Yet it wouldn't have been any different if their choice was the other faction.

 

They had combed through their thoughts and knowledge of both factions to make their decision, and it proven itself clear that the Federation was the only choice. The blasted Federation of Planets that always placed itself as the only moral alliance in the sector, and damn did they find them annoying.

 

It was full of humans only centuries into space-travel, yet claimed that their society was without fault. That their mission of peacefully exploring was one to look up to, how ignorant they must be. And they had far too many aliens converted into their Federation.

 

Species who had been powers of their own now all collected under one banner. It was pathetic. And Vriha feared that the  cultural contamination of the Federation would be harmful.

 

The Republic’s achievements would be one seen only achieved because of the Federation’s involvement, not due to the Romulans who had pushed so hard to change. Yet all their grief with them, it paled in comparison to the thought of any alliances with the Empire

 

At least the Federation was trustworthy. Never would they turn their back on an alliance, nor would they ever consume your culture. Klingons were known for backstabbing, for being untrustworthy and ironically, dishonourable. Not just that, the Gorn, the Orion, their culture were consumed and no little of it remained, Vriha would never wish to see their culture wisp away

 

 

And Vriha didn't much like Klingons. Compared to anyone else, they were always worse. Rude, loud and just insufferable. Exhaling slowly, focusing on their breathing. They needed to focus, at least appear focused.  Stepping towards the door, they supposed that they should take up the Captain seat again

 

Whatever happened, Vriha knew full well that their future would have close ties with the Federation. For better or for worse, that was the only truth. They just hoped that the Republic would not condemn them for this decision

One wish they had, forsaking their pride, their arrogance, was that their Republic would flourish. That maybe one day they could see the Star Empire rebuilt as strong but prove better, prove to be feared without a paranoid populous. That was all they wished, Vriha would deal with swallowed pride, shame, everything, if it meant the people they cared for would not condemn this alliance.

 

Vriha stepped out, the bridge officers turning their head to look at them. Dipping their head to the Reman taking command, they stood up, heading back to their normal station.

 

As they finally settled down in their chair, Vriha crossed one leg over the other, their elbows at their side, and their hands held together. “T’Vell, how much longer until we arrive?”

 

The young looking helm officer nodded, looking back at them “Around four hours Sir.”

 

“Well let us hope it goes smoothly.”


End file.
